Theatre Review: Mack and Mabel

As previously noted elsewhere on this blog, my love for Michael Ball is difficult to overstate.

He was the first name on My List of Celebrity Obsessions and has held his place there since I discovered the original London cast recording of Les Miserables about sixteen (SIXTEEN!) years ago. I go and see him in any and every show he does. I even saw the achingly blah The Woman in White twice because of him. I am that dedicated.

This summer sees my main man playing the lead in Chichester Festival Theatre’s production of Mack and Mabel. The show tells the true (to an extent) story of the rise and fall of silent film director Mack Sennett and his muse/lover Mabel Normand. It’s quite a sad story without the happy ending or the big finish and, honestly, is not an obvious topic for a musical. Not that that matters of course - unlikelier shows have been written. As, sadly, have better shows. Many, many, better shows.

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Mack and Mabel is not a good musical. The music isn't especially memorable for one thing - by the morning after our trip to see this production I had almost entirely forgotten all but one of the songs. The bigger problem is the book though, which runs out of steam somewhere in the middle of Act 1 so that what we’re left with for the rest of the show is long bouts of exposition, usually in the form of a Mack monologue (Mackalogue?), that try to move the plot along sandwiched in between production numbers that stop it dead. The second act suffers in particular from this and the attempts to build up to a tragic finale are as a result completely neutered. As Paul Hollywood would say, it’s got some issues.

I found the characterisation problematic too - Mack and Mabel are both obvious caricatures and both very hard to like (he’s a shit, she’s annoying). The portrayal of Mabel is pretty depressing too; a trailblazing early pioneer of female film-making in real life, in the show she becomes a lovestruck, talentless airhead with no agency of her own (one man makes her a star, another makes her a drug addict), only a couple of solos and probably a third of the lines that Mack has. There’s an essay about how kick ass the real Mabel was in the programme that is far more interesting than anything she does on stage. It’s a thankless role for an actress, one that wasn't helped in this production on the night I saw it by the fact that its Mabel (Rebecca LaChance), whilst pleasingly spunky, had some pretty obvious tuning issues. Hashtag pitchy.

Luckily, there are a lot of redeeming features that ensure that this production is still a lot of fun. A lot of the credit here has to go to choreographer Stephen Mear (of the current Chichester/West End Gypsy fame) whose routines are as spectacular as they are innovative, particularly in the really big production numbers. Big Time and Bathing Beauties in the first act and Tap Your Troubles Away in the second are particular highlights and the slapstick sequences, the Keystone Cops one especially, whilst not really my cup of tea are really well executed. The excitement that these routines produce makes the two hour run time fly by and dazzle enough to make sure that by the time you realise that the plot is dying on its arse you no longer care because ‘look, more dancing’.

There are some great performances too. Let’s not deny that this show could accurately title itself as ‘Mack and Mabel: The Michael Ball Show’ and, even without any particular depth of character to work with, he is an ace Mack. Slimy, vulnerable, wryly funny and, ultimately, sadly knowing he does his best with the material he has and certainly imbues Mack with more personality than he should have on paper. Vocally it goes without saying he owns the room and there’s always something illicitly thrilling about seeing someone who in my mind is amongst the nicest men in the world playing someone fundamentally dislikable (see also: 2012’s Sweeney Todd with which I am fucking obsessed). Pretty decent American accent too - who knew?

He’s backed up by an impressively versatile ensemble and some great supporting performances, particularly Anna-Jane Casey who’s fantastic fun as Lottie, and utterly owns her Tap Your Troubles Away routine to the extent that I sort of wanted to rush the stage and give her a high five, and Gunnar Cauthery who provides a much needed dose of heart and sincerity as sensitive writer Frank. I also enjoyed Mark Inscoe’s William Desmond Taylor who I think we’re supposed to regard as the villain but is actually one of the more charismatically likeable characters for my money, even if he is a major sleaze.

Overall, then, a really strong production of a really weak show. Worth a look, especially if you’re a Michael Ball fan - and if you’re not a Michael Ball fan then you have bad opinions. The Chichester Festival Theatre is lovely too - modern, roomy, efficient - and is a great bet for catching West End quality shows at non-West End prices (we paid £26 each for an off-centre third row of the stalls, difficult to argue with that).

Mack and Mabel is at the Chichester Festival Theatre until September 5th, after which it tours (and transfers to the West End?).

Theatre Review: High Society

One of the things I love about the theatre is you never know how you’re going to react to a production.

Regardless of how well you know the show, the cast, the creative team, the theatre or anything else, what happens when the curtain rises always has the potential to completely defy your expectations - good or bad.

Case in point: the Old Vic’s High Society. On paper, this is a production that I should love - Cole Porter, a big old fashioned musical, big band-ish music, set in the 1950s, lots of stuff that ticks my boxes. But, to coin a phrase, shows aren't staged on paper and on the stage, this production didn't quite reach all of my boxes. (That sounds weird. You know what I mean.)

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It did reach some though and, for me, the undisputed star of this production is Nathan Wright’s dazzling choreography, particularly in the set piece production numbers. The absolute highlight of the show by some margin is the sequence built around ‘Let’s Misbehave’ in which the combination of some of the most energetic choreography I've seen in London, ever, with a dazzling piano duel between the show’s top drawer musical director Theo Jamieson and jazz pianist Joe Stilgoe (huge kudos to whoever made space for him in the production - he’s mindblowingly good in this sequence) and a virtuoso piano-top tap routine from the nauseatingly-talented-yet-somehow-fresh-out-of-drama-school Omari Douglas is amongst the most thrilling ten minutes of a musical I've seen. Worth the price of a ticket alone? Not quite, not at Old Vic prices, but damn close.

The cast, too, is uniformly good. The stand out, again by some margin, is Kate Fleetwood who is a sparkling Tracy Lord, perfectly capturing the many contradictions and layers of what is a very complex character (especially in a show where most of the other characters are more or less one dimensional). She has a gorgeous voice and a natural flair for comedy which elevate some of the key sequences hugely. And she’s a very convincing drunk. Rupert Young - voice as smooth as a very smooth thing - is similarly good as Tracy’s love match Dexter, positively dripping coolness and heart in equal measure. Barbara Flynn draws every ounce of comedy from her pretty unsubstantial role as Tracy’s long suffering mother and Jamie Parker is typically charismatic (though a resoundingly unconvincing drunk) as frustrated writer Mike Connor, hoovering up most of the best one liners and delivering them with an enjoyable swagger. And the ensemble cast of miscellaneous servants/posh people are fantastic, carrying off much of the heavy lifting where the choreography is concerned without putting a foot wrong, literally or figuratively.

For all that, though, I struggled to get particularly excited about the show as a whole. At the most fundamental level I don’t like the plot, or many of the characters, which is obviously a problem that no production would be able to overcome. This production in particular deals with the plot in a slightly uneven way. Directed by musical superstar Maria Friedman - which explains why the musical sequences of the show are so much its strongest suit - the entire first act feels like the set-up for a punchline that the second act doesn't quite deliver on. To put it another way, the first act starts to set up a farce but doesn't actually contain any farce, the second act then drops said promised farce (I really like the word farce) and carries on down a different, more serious, path.

The consequence of this is that I never felt that the plot really got going, something that wasn't helped by the fact there are just too many songs in this show. Right, now I'm aware how batshit mental that sounds as a complaint about a musical. But there were so many musical numbers in this production - which, if my understanding is correct, is a choice made by Arthur Kopit who adapted the film of High Society for the stage and not the way Cole Porter originally wrote it - that even though they were all very well done I just got bored of them. It’s almost like the decision had been taken (whether by Kopit, Porter or someone else doesn't really matter) to just cram in as many Cole Porter songs as possible - I'm amazed that Anything Goes didn't crop up, frankly - and just squish the narrative in around them. I found it intensely frustrating as by the end of the two and a half hours I had had enough of the best part of the show - the music.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I think High Society is a bad show because it demonstrably isn't. I just didn't think it was a great one either, even if it does have some great moments. Worth a look, but not a must see.

Oh, and if you do go get in your seats early as Joe Stilgoe’s pre-show warm up is fab.

High Society is at the Old Vic until 22nd August.

Theatre Review: The Motherfucker with the Hat

Sometimes the weirdest things motivate you to see a show.

Case in point: I decided I wanted to see The Motherfucker with the Hat the moment that the National Theatre released the rehearsal photos and I noticed that Carlos Solis from Desperate Housewives was playing the lead. Not because I fancy him (although…), not because I thought he was a great actor but just because he was from Desperate Housewives and that show WAS MY LIFE when I was at university. Also I like plays with funny names. And swearing; I love swearing. So this one was an all round win for me, all things considered.

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Motherfucker, as I shall henceforth refer to it (because yay swearing!), tells the story of Jackie, ex-con recovering alcoholic, who discovers that his girl Veronica is having an affair when he comes home one day to find a stranger’s hat in their apartment. Sent into a spiral of jealousy, he enlists the help of his AA Sponsor Ralph and sexually ambiguous Cousin Julio to help him deal with the emotional chaos that ensues.

Provocative title aside, this is actually a play about honour. Everyone in Motherfucker is flawed but everyone has their own deeply held moral code. Despite the fact that Jackie is a bit of a shit by all accounts including his own, he respects the bro code. Cheating on his own girlfriend with a former sponsor? Allowed. Fooling around with his current sponsor/best friend’s wife? Not allowed. Hashtag bro code. Similarly, despite being summarily abused and mocked by Jackie for most of his life, Cousin Julio stands by him whenever Jackie needs help - be that hiding the gun Jackie’s recklessly borrowed from a maniacal friend or offering his “Van Damme” skills to beat up Ralph when *spoiler alert!* it transpires that he is in fact the motherfucker with the hat who’s sleeping with Veronica - because they’re family and Jackie was once kind to Julio when they were children. Ralph for his part also has a moral code, albeit a somewhat more nihilistic one that allows sleeping around and telling people that his wife has just died. Whatever floats your boat I guess.

It’s the contradiction between these characters’ massive flaws and their professed morality that provides both the funniest and most touching moments in this really enjoyable show. Stephen Adly Guirgis’ writing is quick-fire, very funny and deeply touching. There are some straight up fantastic lines - Jackie to Ralph’s wife Victoria as he rebuffs her advances: “What are we, Europeans or some shit?!” - that deliver both huge laughs and deep silences, often in quick succession. I loved the play’s ability to sandwich a joke in the middle of a really serious piece of dialogue (and vice versa) as a way of keeping the audience on their toes and making the action feel authentic and genuine.

The cast, too, are great. Leading a tiny ensemble of just five Ricardo Chavira (GUYS, CARLOS SOLIS!) is a pleasingly baffled Jackie, all good intentions and gentle physicality conflated with righteous indignation at being betrayed by two of the most important people in his life. For someone who, by National Theatre standards, has done a pretty small amount of theatre (this is his London début, hopefully the start of a long and happy relationship with the British stage) he is really impressive. (Also, he is ageing well y’know? Book a front stalls seat and enjoy the view in the opening almost-sex scene.) Alec Newman and Nathalie Armin (who is rapidly becoming one of my favourite NT company actors) are fantastic as slimy Ralph and bitter Victoria whose marriage seems to be based entirely on mutual hatred. Victoria in particular gets some of the plays best ‘serious’ dialogue and is really effective delivering it. Flor De Liz Perez is frankly kind of terrifying most of the time as cokehead Veronica, until her barriers are breached and she is revealed to be hurt and fragile. Rounding out an A+ ensemble, Yul Vazquez is perfect as the ambiguous and deadpan Cousin Julio, doing his best to steal every scene he’s in and usually succeeding.

The show’s production is sprightly (100odd minutes, no interval) and so evocative of New York in such a subtle way - it’s amazing how much they achieve with a few floating fire escapes, a gentle backing track of traffic noise and three moving micro-sets. With different apartment sets that move on and off the stage as the scene dictates, the contrasts and similarities between the characters - as well as the NY boroughs they live in - is highlighted very effectively without interrupting the action for more than seconds at a time. It’s technically and dramatically impressive.

Overall, then, Motherfucker is a great play on all fronts and yet another thing I highly recommend (I promise I’ll try and see something I don’t like soon, honest). Brilliant writing, brilliant cast AND CARLOS SOLIS.

The Motherfucker with the Hat is playing in the Lyttleton at the National Theatre until 20th August.

Theatre Review: Gypsy

I've wanted to see a production of Gypsy ever since, about 15 years ago, I first heard some of the songs on an episode of Ball Over Broadway on BBC Radio 2.

(Anyone else remember that show? No? Just me?)

Subsequently, I must have heard bits of the score about a billion times courtesy of myriad episodes of Elaine Paige on Sunday (‘IT’S ME, EEEE PEEE’) and, mostly, Anton and Erin tours which borrow from it so heavily that I think Jule Styne and Stephen Sondheim should get some kind of credit in A&E’s tour programme. And to be honest, even if you don’t think you do, everyone almost certainly knows at least one song or tune from Gypsy. It’s kind of everywhere, musically speaking.

There’s always a risk when you've been wanting to see a show for ages that, having built it up so much in your mind, any production no matter how good is an automatic let down. I was fortunate, then, that the production I got to see was the current West End one which is one of the best - if not the actual best - productions of any musical I've ever seen.

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I mean this show has superlative laden five star reviews coming out of its ears at this point, all of which are entirely justified. I would actually go so far as to say it’s perfect; I can’t think of a single thing, even a tiny one, that I didn't like about it.

The major thing to like about Gypsy - any production of it - is the incredible music. I can’t think of another show that has so many instantly recognisable songs in it. It’s absolutely incredible to me that amazing songs like Everything’s Coming Up Roses, Some People, Together Wherever We Go, You Gotta Get a Gimmick and All I Need is the Girl are in one show. Hell, even the Overture is famous (and so, so beautiful) which is not something that many shows can boast. The music is, I would argue, the best ever written for a show and the superb orchestrations (and orchestra) in this production really make the most of it.

Of course the other major thing to like about Gypsy is that, if a production is in any way worth its salt, then you have a Major Star playing the lead character, Rose. In this case it’s National Treasure Imelda Staunton (I believe that’s her full name) who is un-fucking-believable. I'm aware this is going to sound gushy and over the top, but there really aren't the words to do justice to her performance.  Her voice is just incredible - so powerful and emotive - which is something I always forget for some reason, despite having seen her in a few musicals now. It goes without saying that she’s an incredible actress (her ‘Rose accent’ alone deserves some awards it feels so natural) too and her performance in this show must be one of her best to date.

Rose is a difficult character to love for most of the show and only really gets her redemption in the big finish of the second act, leaving a lot riding on what is a huge and difficult song. Staunton takes that huge and difficult song and wipes the floor with it. It’s a genuinely extraordinary few minutes of theatre which is thrilling to watch. I'm not sure I've seen anything like it in a musical before - it’s worth the price of a ticket alone.

The rest of the cast is great, if somewhat overshadowed. Peter Davison in particular is extremely touching as Rose’s would-be husband Herbie and Lara Pulver is a great, wounded-but-feisty Louise. A fantastic ensemble - and a really strong kids’ ensemble too - has lots to do and does it well. The dance routines are particularly slick, especially Dan Burton’s (Tulsa) sweeping ballroom All I Need is the Girl routine which would definitely get a ten from Len were he to participate in Strictly Come Dancing for some reason.

The production is astutely directed by Jonathan Kent and the clever design - the use of projection is so effective as is the ‘circusy’ lighting - makes the show look as well as sound great.

I think Gypsy is the best thing I've seen this year (nicking the top spot from Clarence Darrow) and urge you to go and see it too. You could not possibly regret it.

Gypsy plays at the (stunning) Savoy Theatre until 28th November.

Theatre Review: An American in Paris

There’s something special about seeing a musical on Broadway.

For reasons I can’t entirely explain, they just seem more at home amongst the bright lights and the bustle of the Great White Way. Big, glamorous, glitzy ‘traditional’ musicals were born on Broadway and there’s just something unique about seeing them in their natural environment.

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An American in Paris is very much the sort of big, glitzy musical that is just made for Broadway. Based on the 1950s Gene Kelly film of the same name, the show features the extraordinary music of the Gershwins and tells the story of Jerry, an American-GI-turned-painter, who decides to stay in Paris after his stint in the second world war where he falls in love with beautiful dancer Lise - a love which famously culminates in an almost 20 minute long ballet sequence.

Films, even musical films, don’t always make great stage shows - and putting a 20 minute ballet on a Broadway stage is certainly a daring move! - but An American in Paris does work; it works like a particularly glorious dream.

First of all the music - my god the music! - is by the Gershwins and therefore perfect. It’s almost worth calling An American in Paris a jukebox musical based on the number of Gershwin greatest hits it includes - I Got Rhythm and ‘S Wonderful are my personal highlights. They’re surrounded by a stunning score, particularly for the dance sequences and particularly particularly the famous ballet. The whole thing just sounds so gorgeous. The music alone makes the show worth seeing.

Second of all, the wonderful music is performed by a wonderful cast. It’s incredibly hard to believe that both Robert Fairchild (Jerry) and Leanne Cope (Lise) are ballet dancers making their Broadway débuts. I mean don’t get me wrong their dancing is phe-fucking-nominal (quoth my mum: “I never wanted that ballet bit to end”) but their singing and their acting is too. Fairchild in particular is a revelation; so charming and so charismatic that you (I) just want to eat him on a sandwich. He’s a force of nature in this show and I hope more Broadway - and West End, pleaseandthankyou - roles are to follow.

A more established supporting cast back them up with Max von Essen’s lovelorn Henri - who absolutely nails his tour de force solo, I’ll Build a Stairway to Paradise; the most sublime, elegant production number I've ever seen - and Brandon Uranowitz’s dry, sardonic Adam being my favourites. The whole cast is great though, just dripping with incredible dancers, and I actually feel a bit guilty about singling anyone out. Not guilty enough not to do it, obviously.

Third of all, the whole show just looks beautiful. From the stunning choreography - the big ballet sequence in particular is out of this world, but all of the routines are on point (pun intended) - to the incredible projected scenery to the beautiful 50s costumes everything is an utter delight. It’s so elegant, so glitzy, so smooth and so glamorous that it’s impossible not to get completely swept up in the entire production unless you’re, like, dead inside.

An American in Paris is a joyous production from top to bottom and start to finish. I'm aware that New York might be a bit of a stretch for some of my UK based readers, but for anyone local or who happens to find themselves in the New York area any time soon then this is a must see. And for everyone else, well, you can get a transatlantic flight for well below most people’s credit card limits these days. Just saying.

An American in Paris is playing at the Palace Theatre New York until November 22nd.

Theatre Review: The Beaux' Stratagem

Sometimes it’s nice to go to the theatre and just laugh.

Not think about the various layers of meaning of a play, or decode directorial decisions or wonder about fancy staging. Just laugh. Simple pleasures are, very occasionally, where it’s at for me.

The Beaux’ Stratagem (I love that punctuation, is that weird?) by George Farquhar is a great play to see if you just want to sit in a comfy National Theatre chair and laugh like a hyena, which frankly is something that everyone should want to do.

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A restoration comedy staged in proper sumptuous period dress, the plot is relatively simple at first glance: two gentlemen - Archer and Aimwell, the titular Beaux - retreat to the country to carry out their Stratagem to marry money, having lost all of theirs in London, only to end up falling for the rich women they are looking to defraud. Throw in a dodgy innkeeper, a rogue highwayman, a priest, a French soldier and sundry other waifs and strays and the action starts to get a bit more complicated.

The comedy brings in its laughs in a variety of different ways: arch observations, silly wordplay (extending even to the character names - Archer and Aimwell the beaux on the hunt, Mr and Mrs Sullen the unhappily married couple etc), ridiculous situations and straight up slapstick. There is unquestionably a lot going on but it all gels together seamlessly and, more importantly, it’s all very, very funny. Joyously funny. Gloriously funny. (Yes, I liked it.)

Geoffrey Streetfeild is comedic gold as Archer, the more worldly and cynical of the beaux. In a razor sharp sprint of a performance he is never short of hilarious, especially when being coerced into situations that involve lengthy, energetic song and dance numbers. Streetfeild is great at both incidentally (and one day I’ll get the trifle song he sings out of my head, hopefully). The energy in his performance is phenomenal - not only does he have the bulk of the musical stuff, he also has the most lines and does the most running around - and he’s just magnetic to watch.

The rest of the cast are also excellent. Though arguably given less to work with, Samuel Barnett is great as Aimwell, the younger, soppier beaux, especially when given some physical stuff to do (his comedy sword fighting is top notch). Susannah Fielding is a fantastic foil for Archer as Mrs Sullen, witty and scheming but also the moral heart of the play. In smaller, but scene stealing parts Jamie Beamish, Pearce Quigley and Timothy Watson are glorious as a French priest with a suspiciously Irish accent, an exceptionally deadpan servant and a love lorn French count respectively. It’s a strong team.

Staged with a degree of ingenuity that sees one house set playing both a country pub and a country house through clever, rapid fire set dressing, the play is directed by Simon Godwin of Man and Superman fame. Although very different in style and tone - there were, regrettably I think, no big song and dance numbers in Man and Superman for a start - The Beaux’ Stratagem is another example of Godwin’s talent and deftness as a director of comedy. He’s rapidly becoming one of my favourite directors. (I'm sure that means a lot to him.)

As I've mentioned music several times in the last few hundred words, it would be wrong not to give a hat tip to the excellent band that The Beaux’ Stratagem has assembled. Sometimes on stage, sometimes off the band is a character in its own right - especially when accompanying Archer’s reluctant singing. And the period costumes are just gorgeous too, both in their rainbow colour palette and beautiful detailing.

I loved this play and this production a lot and you should go and see it if you like, y’know, things that are funny. Just beware the painfully catchy trifle song.

The Beaux’ Stratagem plays in the Olivier Theatre at the NT until 20th September.

Theatre Review: Death of a Salesman

There’s a lovely moment that happens sometimes at the theatre that lets you know that you've seen a really emotionally powerful show.

The moment happens in the silence between the end of act two and the start of applause, when everyone just sits absorbing what they've seen and the only sound you can hear is people quietly sobbing. I love that moment, and it happens so rarely that every time it does happen I love it even more.

There was definitely a serious moment at the end of the (for some genuinely unfathomable reason half empty) production of the RSC’s Death of a Salesman I saw the other night.

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Telling the story of hard-working New York salesman Willie Loman and his tragically unsuccessful quest to live his American Dream, this production has five star reviews coming out of its ears and it’s not difficult to see why: it’s fucking brilliant.

Adding to an almost embarrassingly long list of great performances I've seen so far this year, it’s the acting in Death of a Salesman that ensures it’s heartbreakingly memorable.

Antony Sher is devastatingly good as Willie. In an extraordinarily detailed performance - and with a top drawer New York accent - he gives us a fully rounded picture of a desperate, flawed man. His Willie is harsh and unfeeling; tender and jovial; confused and lonely all at the same time. He balances the energy and determination of Willie’s early years (the flashback scenes are so artfully done - making it clear when we are without holding up the plot) with the decline and delusion of the present day perfectly which makes the impact of the latter all the more upsetting to watch. He makes Willie’s story terrifyingly real and almost draining on the audience to watch which, in this instance, I mean as a complement. It’s really fantastic stuff.

I was almost more impressed, if that’s possible, with the supporting performances from Alex Hassell as Willie’s elder son Biff and Harriet Walter as his long suffering wife Linda. Walter in particular is incredible as the loyal but wounded wife defiantly standing by her man despite everything. Her final scenes, collapsing by Willie’s grave, are so powerful and so, so sad (the cause of the aforementioned moment). She provides the heart of the production, and whether that heart is beating loud and strong or breaking quietly she is elegant and compelling. Hassell is great too, managing to deal with the huge amount of work the flashback scenes place on him - at various points portraying the same character as a small boy, a teenager and an adult - incredibly convincingly and playing the angry, confused, scared adult Biff with just the right amount of tense energy. He feels like a dangerous character, in the same way a wounded animal is dangerous.

The staging of the production is simple, I suspect deceptively so, consisting of a two up two down house with New York brownstone high rises on either side. It’s also extremely effective in creating an atmosphere of claustrophobia. Everyone in the family is under each other’s feet, literally and emotionally, and the house itself is under the feet of the modern New York City that Willie complains feels so alien to him. When emotions run high the results of this close confinement is inevitable. There is a simple and almost always ominous score playing behind much of the action which adds to this claustrophobic mood. It’s altogether so effective, one of those productions you wish you could stop in some way because you know something too awful to contemplate is going to happen in the end.

This is one of my favourite shows I've seen this year and some of the strongest individual and ensemble acting I've ever seen. Everyone should see this production and given our experience of ticket sales everyone can - we were upgraded from the royal circle (cheap seats) to the ninth row of the stalls on a Friday night, utterly baffling for such an outstanding show (the last - and only other - time we had seats upgraded it was for everyone’s favourite omnishambles Stephen Ward). So yeah, get tickets and prepare to have your heart broken in a masterful fashion.

Death of a Salesman is on at the Noel Coward theatre until July 18th.